Cutting Cords

by Mickie B. Ashling

  I came out of the bathroom in my boxers and nothing else. Cole was already in bed and Freddie on his cushy dog pallet by the door. I watched the most gorgeous professor in the world skimming over the pages of his latest book with nimble fingers. Once he’d wrapped his head around his disability, he’d taken to Braille like a duck to water and learned it quickly, realizing that his intellectual life didn’t have to change much if he mastered this new way of reading.

  “I can feel you staring,” Cole said under his breath, continuing to read.

  “I was admiring the view.”

  He put the book aside and turned down the comforter. “Come to bed,” he said invitingly, in a voice I recognized as a prelude to sex. “You need some sensational make-up sex to show you how much you mean to me.”

  I slipped between the sheets and noticed he’d stripped and was sporting some nice wood. That was a good sign. “I take it we’re about to waste some of your precious sperm?”

  “Shush,” he whispered, sealing my lips with a heated kiss. He pulled back for a second and said, “I’m sorry if I upset you.”

  “You know I’d give you the world if I could,” I said, accepting his apology. “But what you’re asking me to do is over the top.”

  “We’ll figure out a way to make this work, okay?”

  “Promise me you won’t do anything behind my back. If you want my support, I expect full disclosure.”

  “I promise.”

  “You’ll give me time to investigate and explore different options?”

  “As long as you understand the ultimate goal is to have a healthy child.”

  “I understand.” And those two words were all it took to smooth over whatever anger and anxiety we were both feeling.

  Cole spent an inordinate amount of time on foreplay tonight. The weed in my system and the weeks of deprivation combined to heighten every sensation. I felt like I was on fire as he thumbed and fondled my nipples. Having sex with the same person, day in and day out for the last five years, should have grown old by now, but it hadn’t. My body reacted to Cole’s touch like a newbie, trembling with desire as he licked a wet track down my torso. He ended up playing with my belly button, poking in and out with his tongue, making me squirm. He moved down to my groin and spread my legs apart, pushing my knees up so I lay splayed and open to his mouth, which was hungry and demanding. He licked my perineum and toyed with my balls, nipping at the loose skin until I cried out. I was so hard it was almost painful, but he squeezed the base of my cock for a few seconds, stemming the natural progression. “Cole, you’re killing me.”

  “Just loving you.”

  “Please….”

  He took me in his mouth, undeterred by my size. He’d gotten quite proficient over the years and thought nothing of sucking me down his throat. He’d learned the fine art of fellatio by constant practice, and we’d experimented, learning what did and didn’t work. Neither one of us had that much experience when we’d first hooked up, so discovering our bodies by learning new ways to pleasure each other had been a large and enjoyable part of our first year. He couldn’t watch any porn, but he certainly made up for it by reading everything he could on gay sex. Now, we were very much in tune. Cole knew every nuance of my body. Each sigh that escaped was a signal. My cries of pleasure were the only spark he needed to fuel his fire. I relinquished all control and let him take me on the amazing ride that culminated with a burst of heat flooding his mouth. I moaned as he swallowed around my throbbing cock.

  Cole let go and moved up my body. “Love you so much,” he whispered, kissing me passionately. I could taste myself as his tongue explored every crevice. We turned over slowly so now I lay blanketed over his hard body. “Your turn,” I said, soaking in the sight of Cole’s contented smile.

  “Worship me,” Cole teased, putting his hands behind his head.

  I grinned and proceeded to pay homage to the most important person in my life. The texture of Cole’s skin was like polished marble and just as hard, chiseled in all the right places. I fanned out his jet-black hair, spreading it on the ivory linen pillowcase, a compelling sight. At thirty-one, Cole was in his prime. There was nothing I would improve, and I ran my hands over his sparsely haired chest, resting for a few minutes to tweak his nipples. They hardened under my touch, and he moaned, moving his head from side to side. I released my grip on the dark nubs and moved down his torso, massaging the taut muscles with the scented oil I’d drizzled on him like salad dressing. It smelled of jasmine and cucumber, some highfalutin brand that Tin had purchased for my last birthday.

  “Feels so good,” Cole said huskily.

  “I want you relaxed and pliant,” I breathed in his ear, “because I plan to use some of that stored up cream.”

  “I know there’s plenty for everyone.”

  “Damned straight. No more hoarding.”

  “Shut up and get on with this.”

  “So bossy.”

  “You love it.”

  “I love you, my shogun.”

  Cole reached for my face and brought it down for a kiss. I could feel myself rising again, pressing hard against his cock, which was stretched to the limit.

  “Again?” Cole asked.

  “I’ve been deprived for weeks.”

  “You’re a sex machine, Sloan.” He smiled.

  “Aren’t you the lucky one?”

  Grabbing the lube, I squirted a healthy amount on my right hand and readied him. We hadn’t done this in a while, and he was as tight as a virgin. He squirmed when I pushed in a finger and squeaked when the second followed. “You okay?”

  “Yes,” he said, grimacing but nodding me on.

  Encouraged, I added a third finger to the mix, and when I stroked his sweet spot he moaned. I was leaking precum, so the lube I swiped on myself was an added precaution since I never entered him dry. The last thing I wanted was to hurt him, and given my size, that fear was not unreasonable. We’d discarded the lubricated condoms years ago, so the extra time I took in preparing him was always appreciated.

  I pushed back his knees and spread him wide, watching him move his hands from under his head to raise them above and back to the iron rails of our headboard, hanging on for support. His arms corded with the force of his grip, and he looked so fucking hot. I wished I could carry the image around in my wallet all day, but I had to content myself with memories instead. I buried my face in his armpits, inhaling his musky scent as my cock breached his tight sphincter in one swift stroke, and I sank into him all the way up to the root, my bony hips grinding against his pelvis.

  “Jesus!”

  “Too much?”

  “No,” Cole exhaled, relaxing, now that I was deep inside his accommodating body. He began to move slowly, rubbing his dick against my stomach, encouraging me to get going. I pulled out almost to my tip and sank back in, angling each stroke for maximum effect. I hit the jackpot several times, hitting his prostate and loving the look on his face as he squeezed his eyes shut in a combination of pain and pleasure. “Fuck, Sloan.”

  The breathless expletive spurred me on, and I began to move with shorter, more vigorous strokes. Soon I was battering him, driving our bodies forcefully back and forth. The headboard creaked loudly in time with our movements. I could see Freddie, out of the corner of my eye, coming toward the bed to jump into the fray, thinking we were playing. I raised my hand, signaling him to stay, and he sat down abruptly but continued to wag his tail, hoping I’d change my mind.

  My attention was drawn back to Cole as his body clamped around me before he came in a creamy mess all over my chest and neck. A future generation of Fujiwaras dotted my torso, and I giggled at my own warped sense of humor, seconds before I shot a load up Cole’s beautiful ass.

  Cole let go of the headboard, and we wrapped around each other like conjoined twins, unwilling to part while we listened to our combined heartbeats thudding loudly. “That was intense,” he commented.

  “Yup,” I concurred.

  “You’re so bea
utiful,” Cole said softly, touching my face gently. His sense of touch had been magnified by his blindness, and I knew, as sure as I could hear the words, that he really did see me.

  “Do you realize that I’ll remain forever young in your mind?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Your vision of me will always be the twenty-something guy you first met years ago―almost immortal.”

  “You’ve been watching too many vampire shows.”

  “Think about it, though. I could get fat and ugly, and you’d never know it.”

  “Bull crap! You’d never get fat, but don’t think I haven’t noticed that you’ve lost some weight.”

  “Shit….”

  “Don’t shit me, babe. What’s going on?”

  “I’ve been all fucked up over impending fatherhood and sex deprivation.”

  “You’re too emotional, Sloan. Carb up and gain back a few pounds.”

  “Hai, master-san.”

  “Shut up.”

  “Don’t you like it when I’m subby? Your very own slut boy?”

  “Where the hell is this coming from?”

  “I saw your face when Noriko addressed you in Japanese with that bowing and san-shit. Your chest puffed up like a fucking pigeon, lapping up the subservience.”

  “You’re insane.” Cole frowned, pushing me away.

  “Am I?” I wondered why he was so defensive. Perhaps I’d hit the nail on the head and seen right through him. The truth was that Cole was a historian who was enthralled by the ceremonial traditions of the Japanese culture. He believed in the old ways and was partial to anything from that country, including its people. Ken couldn’t have chosen a better candidate, and once again I was feeling threatened and insecure.

  “If I wanted a doormat, I would have married Juliana.”

  “Excuse me… who’s bringing out your inner bitch?”

  “You are, with your stupid comments. Noriko is a Japanese woman who is no different from anyone else in that culture. There’s nothing subservient about her. Attaching ‘san’ to a surname is a sign of respect and nothing else.”

  “Let’s not start fighting over her again.”

  “We’ve been arguing about her all night.”

  “I know. Doesn’t that worry you in any way?”

  “You need to chill out, Sloan. She’s not a threat.”

  “I disagree.”

  Cole slid away and stood to go to the bathroom. “I will say this as often as you need to hear it. You’re my partner and the one I love. Noriko is simply a means to an end and not worth so much anxiety.”

  “Maybe if I hear it often enough I’ll believe you.”

  Chapter 6

  AFTER MUCH discussion, Cole persuaded me to give Noriko the benefit of the doubt. He begged me to keep an open mind, so I agreed to let her accompany us to Montauk for the weekend. Max had a summer home there, and he’d extended an open invitation for any weekend we could get away, which included our guest. I admitted grudgingly that learning more about her would be easier to stomach in a neutral setting.

  She was waiting outside the Washington Square Hotel, where she’d been staying since her arrival from Japan. We picked her up in a cab, heading out to Penn Station to catch the Long Island cannonball service, an express train to East Hampton.

  Noriko took the seat beside Cole while I sat opposite the pair, allowing me to study her without being obvious. I still had a bad habit of staring at people, but I’d learned a little more subtlety with age. Freddie lay contentedly at his master’s feet, lulled into a sleepy stupor by the rocking motion of the powerful locomotive. Our pup was a seasoned traveler and partial to trains since it was Cole’s preferred mode of transport.

  She wore an orchid-colored T-shirt underneath her black jacket, accessorized with a silk scarf in vibrant jewel tones tied around her neck. Her skintight blue jeans were tucked into soft leather boots that rose to mid-calf, accentuating her shapely legs. Noriko was understatedly elegant, and I’d been in the fashion industry long enough to know the price of her wardrobe. The boots were clearly Italian, her blazer had the Hanae Mori insignia embroidered on the right breast pocket, and the scarf’s intertwining G’s were an easily recognizable logo by anyone who knew quality. Her attire made the offer to surrogate even more intriguing. Why would a woman who evidently had the funds to outfit herself in designer duds be willing to sacrifice two years of her life if money wasn’t a factor? Or was this all for show, and she was in debt up to her perfectly arched eyebrows. Other than her light berry-colored lip gloss and a bit of mascara, Noriko’s face was once again bare of makeup. She was a natural beauty, which made her motives even more suspect. She could have anyone she wanted, so why be a womb for rent?

  I listened to her responses as Cole explained the dynamics of East Hampton in relation to New York City in general. Noriko was impressed by the history of the seaside towns. Coming from a country where land was at a premium, the sprawling mansions we glimpsed on the way to our destination were impressive, more so when she learned that most of the owners only used these palatial residences a few months a year. It seemed like such excess, seeing it from a foreigner’s point of view. Her questions were intelligent, and I began to realize that there was more to this Eurasian beauty than met the eye.

  “Have you been to college?” I asked bluntly, interrupting the conversation between her and Cole.

  “No, Sloan-san. I did not get that opportunity.”

  “Chillax on the ‘san’ shit.”

  Cole frowned. “Sloan, it’s just a sign of respect.”

  “I get it, but she doesn’t need to use it when she talks to me.”

  “I will try and keep that in mind, Sloan,” Noriko replied sweetly.

  “You do that,” I said, feeling the animosity instantly. Noriko seemed to dislike me as much as I detested her.

  Max and a few of our friends would be joining us, providing the buffer we’d need to get over this awkward getting-to-know-you stage. Noriko, for all her graciousness, was a stranger, and the hours spent in her company were bound to be unnerving without the distraction of a crowd. I resented everything about her and was hard-pressed keeping my feelings in check. I hoped that a few days in her company would ease some of my concerns, but so far they were magnified instead of the other way around.

  Since it was early in April, the weather was decent but not enough to draw the tourists. Max had bought his old farmhouse at least ten years ago and had it completely renovated. It was walking distance to the beach, about two miles from town, and large enough to accommodate at least twenty guests. I’d been there many times over the last five years for photo shoots. The scenery was magnificent, with the bay and famous lighthouse providing a perfect backdrop for whatever product Max was currently peddling.

  He’d even designated a room for Cole and me so we could leave clothes and personal belongings, making this weekend getaway feel more like home. Freddie adored the freedom of the outdoors and spent the first ten minutes of our arrival tearing around the lawn and barking at the sea gulls that swooped down to torment him. This was a ritual we put up with each time we set foot on the property. Cole waited patiently for his apartment dweller to expend some pent-up energy before settling down to become his good and compliant Seeing Eye dog once again.

  “Max, I’d like you to meet Noriko,” I said casually when Max stepped out to welcome us.

  “Hajimemashite,” Noriko said softly, bowing from the waist.

  “Anata wa eigo ga hanase masu ka?” Max said in Japanese, surprising all of us.

  Noriko’s face lit up. “Hai, sukoshi hanase masu,” she prattled in rapid-fire Japanese until Max raised his hand. “Stop,” he chuckled. “I only know a few words.”

  “Your Japanese accent is far better than my stilted English,” Noriko replied. “Where did you learn, Max-san?”

  “I’ve been to Japan many times, and I had to familiarize myself with some key phrases to get around. Tokyo is one of my favorite cities.”
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  “I am from Kyoto,” Noriko said. “Have you been there?”

  “I did a photo shoot at the Hanamachi last year.”

  “Of course,”—Noriko nodded—“most Westerners gravitate to it.”

  “Yes,” Max concurred, “no doubt after Memoirs of a Geisha was released.”

  “Indeed,” Noriko answered, rather curtly, I thought. I wondered what that was all about. I’d have to take Max aside and ask him what he’d said that might possibly have offended her.

  Max picked up her small suitcase, and we followed him into the house. It was casually opulent in a charming, Ralph Lauren sort of way. The sofas were upholstered in bright red and blue plaids, and the windows were covered with white wooden shutters that were opened to let in the bright sunshine. The floor was bleached knotted pine, which added to the overall impression of space and lightness. There were several area rugs in colors that matched the sofas and easy chairs scattered throughout in small groupings. The focal point of the great room was the enormous fireplace framed with flat river rocks that added a rustic atmosphere to the comfortable and friendly space. There was a cheerful fire burning right now, and several of our friends raised their hands in greeting as we proceeded past the long refectory table separating the dining room from the open kitchen and the stairs leading up to the bedrooms on the second floor. The hallway was open to the room below and had a wooden railing overlooking the cavernous space. One could see everything going on downstairs, even as the group watched us make our way to our assigned rooms. There were seven guest rooms in all and just as many bathrooms. It was a mini-hotel, and one of the nicest around. Max went to great lengths to see that his guests were comfortable, and each suite had every amenity that money could buy.

  The rooms were color-coded, and Cole and I always stayed in the blue room. Noriko had the yellow room, which meant it was the dominant color, and every piece of fabric picked up or complemented that hue. The walls were papered in an old-fashioned floral print, a light cream background with tiny yellow daisies and daffodils surrounded by lush greenery in natural reed baskets. The queen-size bedspread was a patchwork quilt, handmade, in different shades of pale blue, buttercup yellow, and celadon green. It was a woman’s room, and the closet space would have made the ladies from Sex and the City squeal in delight.